


constancy

by Skylark



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Character Study, Domestic, M/M, Massage, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 10:02:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16721241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skylark/pseuds/Skylark
Summary: "The only thing that could be worse than what you are doing right now, mister," Jake says with the utmost severity, "is stopping."





	constancy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wildcard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wildcard/gifts).



> A holiday 2017 gift for a friend.

"The only thing that could be worse than what you are doing right now, mister," Jake says with the utmost severity, "is stopping."

"There are lots of things that could be worse," Dirk says, as his fingers spread across the sturdy expanse of Jake's shoulderblade. His other hand reaches for Jake's elbow and he pulls, a slow and careful gesture that makes Jake groan as the muscles loosen, relaxed by the firm press of Dirk's hands. "I could be blowing something up. Hacking into government classified files. Murdering children."

"You've already done all those things," Jake says. "Because you felt you had to, or because someone told you not to. But the game is over; I don't see why you'd want to again."

Dirk glances up, at the restful curve of Jake's face, at the way his glasses sit askew on his nose because he forgot to take them off and Dirk didn't bother to remind him, just for the sight of him so vulnerable and relaxed. His fingers don't stop their work, inching their way up to his neck and rubbing in soothing circles. Jake doesn't try to mask his happy sigh.

"You're right," Dirk says.

"A fellow could get used to hearing that," Jake says, his smile lazy, his eyes still closed.

"Well, don't," Dirk says, reflexive; but when Jake cracks an eye open, alarmed by the quickness of Dirk's response, he finds that Dirk's mouth is set in that slanted smile that Jake knows so well.

"You're hardly funny," he says, mock severe. "But God almighty, do you have the most fine pair of hands."

Dirk doesn't mention the years he spent starved for touch, reading massage tutorials, practicing on whatever parts of his own body that he could; doesn't mention the time he spent daydreaming about Jake's body under his. Now they live together and Jake's body is no longer a mystery, but the simple act of touching another human, being allowed to, not having to claw for it or lay traps to get it, only having to ask—that will never stop being a small miracle, Dirk thinks.

"I'm good at what I do," is all Dirk says.

"You are," Jake says, and he rolls over. Dirk's hands slide across his body crosswise, until they're resting on his chest and Jake is reaching for him, the light in his eyes warm and fond. "You are, you are, you are."


End file.
